Mr. Frost,
I think of you often– more often than you imagine, if you even imagine me at all these days. Our story was brief to be sure, but it has left a lasting impression on me. Why I chose to disappear, I can't remember; but I wish I hadn't been such a fool. The "what if"s are the worst part of it all. What if we had gone on a picnic? What if we had gone off the deep end together?
It could have been something. I apologize.
I can only hope my name weasels it's way into your subconscious some day.
My red string is tied securely to my big toe– give your end a tug; I'll let you know if I feel it.
It’s strange, maybe heartbreaking in a way
What you find when you google your own name
Here I am, still, after all of the days
Propelled by the cadence of your heart beats
Wandering like a somnambulist to
The meter of your every waking breath
Transfixed as it crystallizes mid-air
Lingers like spray from cold open oceans
Tangled in the delicate web you’ve spun
Anchored only by a strand of red thread
By which I can feel the warmth of each blow
Through the endless void of pale ocean blue
That glittering blackness of starlit space
That brings to mind your newly opened eyes
When they are still unaware if what they see
Is real, or part of some forgotten dream
I ebb along, ever content to watch
The tide kiss your feet as you walk the beach
Where gunmetal-grey dawns disintegrate
Into the delirium of evening
When everything turns blue for you
And your worries drift away into space
(You dream something deeper than my madness)
Im right here…..
What is strange and heartbreaking is that I keep losing you. I encourage you to check back, if you care, because these posts are for you now.